


Orgasm Denial / Begging

by cozywilde



Series: Kinktober [11]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Blushing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, Licking, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Pet Names, Sex on a Car, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Katau has been in Vothoris' employ for some time now, but his master hasn't called on him until today. That is, if Katau's right about what that unusual request to wash his car means.





	Orgasm Denial / Begging

**Author's Note:**

> [Katau](https://toyhou.se/3314732.katau), a sweet but self-conscious baker  
> [Vothoris](https://toyhou.se/3289386.vothoris), a Legitimate Businessman with dangerous charisma  
> Skilaan, Vothoris' no-nonsense assistant  
> (brief mentions of) Runir, Vothoris' bodyguard
> 
> This is a bit of an AU where Vothoris employs a number of people to play with (and, when they're not playing, perform various duties on his estate). They wear bracelets to indicate the kinks/activities they'd like to participate in, and each day Vothoris chooses who he'll indulge.

“Katau, over here please.”

Eyes wide, Katau walks cautiously over to the master’s assistant. As usual, Skilaan looks prim and businesslike, clipboard in hand. Her eyes scan over the bracelets on Katau’s wrist, and he automatically lifts his arm so she can see better even as he blushes at the scrutiny. _Gold for being fucked, emerald for the outdoors, sapphire for making him beg… as if he could ever stop himself._ She gives the barest nod and continues. “Good. You’ll have a different task today. Put this on and proceed to the garage at the rear of the house. Questions?”

Katau takes the package she holds out. It’s light and soft beneath the crinkly paper wrappings, and his fingers tap along one edge as he tucks it to his side. “What will I be doing, ma’m?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Washing a car.”

“R-right. And the supplies…?”

“Will be ready for you.”

Katau takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. I’ll just… go then.”

Skilaan gives what could almost be a smile. “Yes, I think you should hurry along.”

He takes her words to heart, half-jogging as he rounds the house. His heart pounds from more than the exercise, though. Could it possibly be that today… the master wants _him?_ Katau shivers, remembering the intensity of red eyes watching, but always from a distance. He shouldn’t get his hopes up though. It’s probably nothing.

Out of habit, he’s headed towards the pool. Still, the pool house is as good a place as any to put his new outfit on, and the assistant had said he should change before he got to the garage. If he’s learned anything, it’s that no instruction given here is open to interpretation.

When he opens the package, he almost wishes those instructions were just a little more flexible. Inside several layers of wrapping lies one garment, though that’s a generous word for the extremely sparse shorts he finds. Katau swallows heavily as he lifts them up for a closer look. They’re soft, and thin, and pink, and look like they’d cover just about nothing. When he turns them around, he has to blink to be sure he isn’t imagining the “JUICY” emblazoned across the back.

 _This_ has _to be for something special,_ is what he tells himself now. He steps out of his shoes, pulls off his neatly pressed pants and folds them over a chair, then looks at the shorts, and then at his boxers. The boxers are longer. He sighs and pulls them off too, then tugs on the shorts.

He has to admit… they fit like a dream. It makes sense, the master’s assistant has all of his measurements. Still, he has to adjust himself a little, the building anticipation starting to make his cock harden against the soft fabric. There’s a mirror against one wall, and he looks at himself, flushing as he twists to catch the bright letters now stretched across his ass.

Unfortunately, his shirt does not look like it belongs in this picture. Katau fiddles with the hem, then tugs it over his head in one quick motion. It ruffles his hair, and he smoothes it back into place as he looks at himself again.

It’s not… horrible. But shorts like these were not really made for someone as… squishy as he is. The waistband doesn’t dig in or anything, but he still feels a bit exposed to be working outside. He frowns and tries to suck in his belly a little. It doesn’t really help.

Only the little thrum of anxiety hovering at the back of his mind - _yes, I think you should hurry along_ \- gets him out the door in a reasonable amount of time. It’s just a short walk to the garage, and Katau’s mouth falls open when he gets there.

The car he’s supposed to wash - he assumes this must be it, as it’s the only one parked out in the open - positively gleams already, a cool, steely gray in the bright sunlight. He doesn’t need to know anything about cars to know it must be obscenely expensive, every inch of its low-slung body carved in sharp, deliberate lines that speak of speed and power. Also, the master would never want anything but the best. Which makes him wonder why he’d want _him,_ of all people. He pushes the thought aside. He has work to do.

As promised, there’s a bucket with washcloths and soap by the car, a neatly-coiled hose next to it. Katau shakes himself out of his stupor and steps forward, setting the washcloths aside and kneeling to fill the bucket. It feels silly to wash such an immaculate vehicle, but if that’s what the master wants, it certainly isn’t his place to question it. If nothing else, this is a good day for it - the sun shines warm overhead, and even in his lack-of-outfit he’s comfortable.

Bucket filled and soap added, Katau dunks a washcloth and straightens up. Probably best to start at the top… which is easy enough, the car barely comes to his waist. He leans over, catches movement in his peripheral vision, and drops the cloth with a splat.

“M-master,” he gasps, quickly dropping to his knees. Gods he’s quiet - or Katau was distracted. Vothoris stands barely ten feet away, as impeccably dressed as ever in a charcoal gray suit despite the hot sun. Katau bows his head. “How can I please you, sir?”

He hears footsteps, and tries to hold himself still even as his breath quickens in excitement. Shoes shiny enough that he can see his flushed reflection in them stop just in front of him, and Katau blushes a deeper pink as a gloved hand cups his jaw, tilting his head up. Katau’s breaths stutter, then stop under his scrutiny, his eyes fluttering closed as the tip of a leather-clad finger brushes over his lips.

“I believe you already have your orders,” Vothoris says, and drops his hand. Katau sways after the touch before he manages to catch himself, blinking to clear his head. He takes a shaky breath and nods.

“Y-yes, Master,” Katau says, pushing himself to his feet. Even that brief touch has his cock stretching the fabric of the too-tiny shorts, and he flushes as Vothoris’ eyes trace along it. He’s not sure if he should turn away to return to his task, caught between his orders and his master’s obvious appreciation.

“Well, peach? I’m waiting.” Vothoris answers his unspoken question with a raised eyebrow, and Katau hastens to collect the washcloth - half-dry where it’s been sitting in the sun - and re-wet it. When he bends to dunk it in the bucket of soapy water he hears a soft rumble of appreciation, and his flush spreads down his neck. A quick glance behind him shows Vothoris unashamedly ogling his ass, and Katau shivers. _Guess he likes the shorts._

Not wanting to be chastised again, Katau turns back to the car, scrubbing at nonexistent dirt on the roof. Even as silly as this task seems, he knows he needs to do his best anyway, and soon he’s coated in a thin layer of sweat. Starting at the top was a good idea. He can’t reach the middle of the roof without leaning against the body, and he knows he’s leaving belly-prints against the windows. _At least if it’s pressed against the car, Vothoris can’t see it…_

Vothoris is quiet now, just watching, but Katau can feel his eyes on him as he scrubs. The soapy water drips down the side of the car, and the ridiculous shorts soak it up when he leans against it again. He glances down and bites his lip. The soft pink fabric is nearly translucent now, the outline of his cock clearly visible right down to the ring at its base. “Fuck,” he breathes, and has the terribly tempting thought of rocking forward against the car. He hadn’t realized how turned on he was, but seeing the evidence…

“Is there a problem, peach?” Vothoris’ tone has the slightest edge of - something. Katau can’t read him.

“No sir,” he answers anyway, hurriedly scrubbing at the car again.

“Turn to me.” The _now_ is implicit, and Katau obeys instantly. He can’t quite meet Vothoris’ eyes, though, twisting the washcloth in front of his belly.

“Look at this, peach… so needy and I’ve barely touched you.” Eyes dark with amused arousal, Vothoris steps closer again, a gloved hand ghosting over the length of Katau’s dick. Katau can’t suppress a soft noise or the minute jump of his hips toward the touch, but Vothoris is quick enough to pull back. “You think you’ve earned that, do you?”

Katau’s eyes widen. It feels like a trap but he can’t summon a coherent enough thought to know the right answer. “No, sir…” he tries, barely audible.

“I can’t hear you, little mouse.”

Katau swallows heavily. “N-no, sir. I - I haven’t finished washing your car yet.”

Vothoris nods. “No, you haven’t. Though I think the roof is quite clean enough.”

Katau flushes deeper. “Yes, sir.” Vothoris’ half-step back is as clear a dismissal as he’ll get, and he dunks the washcloth again and starts on the windows. He has to bend over to reach them, and he braces a hand on the edge of the roof as he scrubs - though it falters as a hand cups his ass.

“Did I tell you to stop, peach?” Vothoris has moved up behind him again, just as light-footed as before. His hand kneads over the shorts, and Katau can feel his flush traveling over his shoulders.

“No, sir,” Katau breathes, and dazedly starts washing the windows again. Each squeeze of Vothoris’ fingers makes him tense, cock twitching against his shorts, and he swallows back a disappointed whine when his washcloth needs re-wetting. Vothoris is clearly paying attention and steps back to let him go to the bucket.

Katau can’t help a forlorn glance back as he moves to the next window, but Vothoris just stands impassively by - until Katau’s scrubbing at the window and a hand slips around him to pinch his nipple. Katau bites his lip on a moan, his fingers clenching down to squirt soapy water out of the washcloth. Vothoris quickly steps back.

“Almost got soap on my shoes, you naughty boy,” he says, straightening his jacket. It’s utterly unfair that he can look so pristine while Katau is a trembling, sweaty mess. Unfairly hot, mostly.

“I’m sorry sir,” Katau gasps, shakily turning to wet the washcloth again. He worries his mistake will keep Vothoris away, taking anxious peeks over his shoulder. When he accidentally meets Vothoris’ eyes he quickly turns back to his work, the warning in them clear. He circles the car, carefully washing each window in turn. Vothoris shadows him effortlessly but doesn’t touch again, though the anticipation of it is almost worse, Katau’s breath catching with each imagined footstep behind him.

Katau has to stretch over the hood to reach the windshield, and he shudders as his dick presses against it, the metal hot even through his shorts. He can’t stop an instinctive rock of his hips this time. Teetering on tiptoes, he nearly falls over when Vothoris’ hands grip his hips, tugging him back from the car. He manages to brace himself on the hood with a gasp.

“Do you know how much this vehicle costs, my peach?” Vothoris asks, voice low. Katau can barely hear him over the rabbit-fast pounding of his heart.

“No sir. I know it’s - very expensive, sir,” Katau manages. Vothoris’ fingers trace along the edge of the shorts as he laughs softly, then abruptly he tugs the waistband down. Katau whines as his dick bobs free, wet with precome that he _prays_ doesn’t drip on the car.

“‘Very expensive.’ Correct, if not very precise,” Vothoris says. “And did I give you permission to rub your needy cock on my _very expensive_ car?” One of Vothoris’ hands stays tight on Katau’s hip, the other brushing featherlight touches over Katau’s length that make his breath hiccup.

“N-no, sir,” Katau whispers. His muscles twitch with restraint as he desperately tries to hold himself still.

“What’s that, little mouse?” Vothoris asks. His gloved thumb traces the head of Katau’s cock, and he whimpers, precome beading against the leather.

“No sir!” Katau cries. Vothoris’ hand cradles his dick, provoking hitched breaths and soft moans as he strokes with just the tips of his fingers. Katau feels almost delirious - why is he being rewarded after he’s clearly misbehaved? It feels so good, _too_ good, his hips pushing helplessly forward into each brush of Vothoris’ fingers. Precome drips from the tip of his cock - one drop, then two.

“Oh, now look at this,” Vothoris says. “Look what you’ve done, you messy, desperate thing. You’re just making more work for yourself.” Katau whines, glancing down at the drops of precome he’s left on the hood of the car. Vothoris draws his fingers up the underside of his cock, and he shudders as another drop falls.

“Sir, please, I - I can’t -” Katau breathes. He squirms in Vothoris’ implacable grip, not sure if he should be moving toward or away from his delicate touches.

“Can’t what, little mouse? Can’t stop making a mess of yourself?”

Katau shudders. “Yes sir…”

Vothoris huffs something almost like a laugh. He steps back all at once, Katau barely catching himself before he falls onto the hood. “Clean it up.”

Glancing behind him, Katau nods in acknowledgment, chest still heaving with desperate breaths. He reaches for the washcloth, and Vothoris clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “No. Not with that.” He strolls over to stand by the driver’s side door, watching Katau think through it, smirking when it clicks.

Hesitantly, Katau bends down, poised over the scattered drops of precome. His breath leaves little puffs of condensation on the metal. Still watching Vothoris warily, he ducks his head, tongue slipping out to lap up a dot of precome.

“ _Good_ boy,” Vothoris purrs, and Katau nearly shudders with relief. He’s quicker to lick up the rest of the drops, not caring about the salty taste of himself spreading on his tongue when Vothoris is looking at him like that, red eyes hot and penetrating, and - oh _gods_ \- the line of his dick pressing hard against the seam of those neat pants, long and thick. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to concentrate, and when he blinks them open again Vothoris is gone.

A hand grips his shoulder and flips him, Katau gasping as his back hits the hood of the car. Vothoris stands over him, still so poised despite the clear evidence of his arousal. “I’m not sure that I should reward you simply for cleaning up your own mess, peach,” he says. A gloved hand skims up Katau’s neck, cradling his jaw. Vothoris’ thumb pets over Katau’s bottom lip and he’s quick to let his mouth fall open. “But this pretty pink mouth of yours is tempting.” He nudges his thumb between Katau’s lips and he sucks obligingly, giving a soft moan as Vothoris’ thumb strokes over his tongue. The leather is soft, but Katau only tastes it for a moment before Vothoris pulls it away.

“I think you should beg me for it,” Vothoris continues, conversational. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and fastidiously wipes his glove clean before he tucks the cloth away and rests his hand at his belt. His fingers draw Katau’s eyes right where he wants them; he’s helpless to look away. “What do you think of that, peach?”

“Please,” Katau breathes without a thought. “Please, let me suck you, master.”

Vothoris cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I can’t hear you, little mouse.”

Katau scrambles down from the hood of the car, dropping to his knees in front of Vothoris. He doesn’t dare reach out to touch him. “Please, master… I want your dick, I - I want to taste you, want to feel you on my tongue.”

“Is that all?” Vothoris is still as cool and untouched as an ice sculpture - with the exception of his cock - and Katau nearly sobs with frustration.

“No, master, please! I need it! I need your dick, need it filling me up, please - I’ll be so good for you, please let me, let me suck you and swallow you down, I’ll do anything, I need it!” Katau’s breaths come quick again, and he’s trembling with the force of his desire, his own dick straining against his belly.

Vothoris looks down on him, waiting one long second, then two. “Is this what you need?” He deftly unfastens his belt, Katau swallowing hard at the jingle of metal. Vothoris reaches in his pants and pulls out his dick, his fingers barely circling the base as he holds it.

Trying and failing to suppress a whimper, Katau nods, leaning in closer. “Yes, yes please, please let me suck you master, please I’ll be so good for you -“

“Alright.” Vothoris doesn’t need more than the single soft word to stop Katau’s stream of desperate babbling. Katau blinks up at him in wonderment, mouth still half-open. “Well? Go ahead.”

Katau wants nothing more than to bury Vothoris’ dick in his throat, but he also wants to impress him. He leans in slowly, shuddering breaths hot against the tip before he traces his tongue over the slit. The salty tang of precome bursts over his tongue again, but this time he gives a soft moan, loving it, loving the proof of what he’s doing to his master. He can’t resist sliding his lips over the head, heart thrilling at Vothoris’ soft intake of breath. Katau lets his eyes drift up to his master’s face as he rocks forward, taking his dick further into his mouth.

His lips have to stretch wide around its thickness, but Katau’s careful not to let his teeth scrape over delicate skin. _Not unless my master asks me to._ The heat of it burns against Katau’s tongue, sliding easily to the back of his throat where Katau pauses. Gods, not even half of Vothoris’ length between his lips yet - but Katau’s all the more eager as he rocks forward, swallowing down the rest. His watering eyes still catch the flush over Vothoris’ cheekbones, and he’s proud, so proud, humming his delight as he bobs his head, letting Vothoris’ saliva-slicked length slide between his swollen lips.

Vothoris allows him to set his own rhythm for a time, ruby-red eyes intent on the show Katau provides - flush traveling down his neck, over his chest, hazy blue eyes drifting in and out of focus, precome pearling at the tip of his cock. His hips twitch in fitful bursts, Katau’s cock apparently the only part of him not totally concentrated on sucking Vothoris’ dick. “ _So_ desperate, aren’t you,” Vothoris purrs, sinking one gloved hand into Katau’s messy hair, half-falling from its ponytail. “If it wasn’t for that cock ring, I bet you would’ve come already, wouldn’t you?” Katau whines, high and sharp, rhythm faltering at the touch, at the too-true words.

Not a problem for Vothoris. He tightens his grip and pulls as he rocks his hips forward, sinking deep enough that Katau’s nose hits his belly. Katau gives a soft groan and goes sweetly, blissfully pliant. “ _Good_ boy,” Vothoris growls above him, and starts to thrust, harder, faster. “You’d do anything to have this dick in you, wouldn’t you?” Katau’s whimpers are muffled around his length but Vothoris seems to savor them anyway, a smirk curling his lips as he tugs at Katau’s hair to provoke more.

Katau almost wishes he could respond but this is so much better, held tight in his master’s grip as his hips rock quicker and quicker, only able to swallow sporadically as precome spills over his tongue. Gods, Vothoris must be close now, his chest heaving against that trim suit, dick twitching in his mouth, nearly ready to release -

 _No!_ Katau is lucky he has no breath to voice the protest, only able to pant weakly as Vothoris roughly tugs him back. He can’t help straining against the hold for a moment, leaning towards Vothoris’ painfully flushed dick, but a warning look quickly makes him stop. He sits back on his heels instead, chest rising and falling in quick bursts as Vothoris looks him over.

“Look at you now, such a pretty pink peach,” Vothoris says, the tip of one gloved finger skimming over Katau’s cheek, sliding down to cradle his jaw. “Even if it is a bit bruised.” He smirks, pressing briefly against the tender, swollen curve of Katau’s bottom lip. Katau whines and tries to fit his mouth around that soft leather again, but Vothoris pulls back with another low laugh. “So eager to suck me in, any part of me, does it even matter to you?”

Katau’s eyes dip tellingly to Vothoris’ dick, the slick length of it still flushed a deep red from Katau’s mouth. Vothoris easily catches the look, one hand still twined tight in Katau’s hair as he uses the other to angle his dick towards Katau’s mouth again, just close enough for the hot puffs of his breath to wash over the tip. Both of their breaths are shaky now, but Katau hardly notices, so intent on what he so desperately wants, what he _needs._ He lets his mouth fall open, welcoming, but Vothoris still isn’t _moving._ Katau looks up at him with pleading eyes, and it’s then that he catches the burning look in Vothoris’.

The hand in Katau’s hair tightens and he’s pulled up, wobbling on weak knees for only a second until Vothoris spins him, bearing him down against the sun-warmed metal of the car again. “I wonder,” Vothoris muses, “is every part of you as eager to suck me in?” Katau yelps as Vothoris tugs hard at his shorts, hearing the thin fabric shred, then moans as those now-familiar hands knead at his ass. He puts his own hands over the hood of the car to brace himself, not trusting his trembling legs to hold himself up.

“Oh, you’re pretty and pink here too, aren’t you?” Vothoris’ smirk is clear in his voice, Katau’s face burning at the praise. “Such a lovely peach, but were you good too…?” A fingertip traces Katau’s entrance, already shining slick with lube, and he nods dazedly.

“Y-yes, I - of course,” Katau breathes. He arches his back as much as he can, offering himself up.

“I hope you aren’t lying to me,” Vothoris says, and that’s all the warning Katau has before Vothoris’ hands frame his hips and he thrusts forward, the thick length of his cock sinking home.

The sound Katau makes is half-whimper, half-scream, and he goes boneless against the car. Oh _gods_ but Vothoris is big, and he’s _merciless,_ tugging Katau back across the hood to let him push deeper. He had prepared himself as ordered, but there’s only so much Katau’s fingers and toys can do. “You _were_ a good boy,” he hears distantly, warm satisfaction curling in his chest, and then Vothoris’ hips hit his ass and he nearly sobs with the intensity of it. So full, all at once… it’s all he can do to remember to breathe.

“How does that feel, peach?” Vothoris asks, his voice a throaty growl that thrills over Katau’s nerves. “Too much? Or is this still not enough for you, still so desperate for more?” Katau whines, then gasps as Vothoris’ fingers squeeze at his hip again. Each hitch of his breath shifts Vothoris’ length within him, sending sparks through his body, making precome drip from his cock to spot the car’s immaculate paint job again. _Oh no, I’ll have to clean that up,_ is the only delirious thought he can manage, and even that is driven from his mind as Vothoris’ hips draw back, then rock hard into him again.

Katau simply can’t help the wild sounds that spill from his mouth as Vothoris drives into him in a pounding rhythm, strangled moans and keening cries as he’s filled again and again, that thick length hitting every sensitive spot he has. Vothoris’ hands jerk him back into every thrust, grip like iron under the leather, all of Katau’s squirming more than useless. He only realizes he’s babbling a string of pleas when Vothoris bends over him, crisp fabric brushing his back as he grinds in deep.

“Please what, peach?” Vothoris’ tongue traces over the sweat beading on Katau’s neck, and his lips press there, then teeth. Katau cries out, fingers scrabbling over the hood. “You’ll have to be clearer than that, I’m afraid.”

“P-please - please - I need -” Katau nearly sobs his desperation, thoughts scattering with each slap of their hips together. His cock bounces against his belly with each thrust, painfully hard, aching with the intensity of his pleasure. In his periphery he catches a flash of black falling to the hood, a crumpled leather glove, and then he can’t think at all as a smooth, manicured hand circles his cock.

Vothoris grunts as Katau’s body tenses around him, but doesn’t let his rhythm falter. “Is this what you need, peach?” His fingers trace the ring at the base of Katau’s cock, all that’s holding him back from the edge, then slide up to rub over the slick head. Katau gives a sharp whine, nodding senselessly, back arching as his hips jerk in Vothoris’ unmoving hold. Vothoris gives him a few slow strokes, fingers slipping in the mess of precome Katau has spilled, and he cries out wordlessly. It’s so much, _too_ much, but he just wants - he needs -

“ _More,_ ” Katau gasps, forehead thudding against the car. “P-please, let me - let me come, _please_ -“ Tears bead at the corners of his eyes, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. He twists, just managing to peek over his shoulder, cries still catching in his throat with each relentless thrust. Vothoris’ fingers tighten around Katau’s cock when their eyes meet, and he slows his pace to grind in deep, leaning over Katau.

“Oh, listen to you beg,” Vothoris murmurs, his hand leaving Katau’s hip to trace the line of a tear down his cheek. “Not so much the mouse anymore… but I still want you louder.” He jerks his hips back and thrusts in hard, pushing a strangled yelp from Katau’s throat. “Yes, better. You can come when you’re screaming for it.”

Katau whines, then realizes he’s still biting his lip, muffling himself. He lets his mouth fall open, and his moan at Vothoris’ next thrust is loud and clear, getting a low growl of approval from him. Soon he’s back to that hard, jarring rhythm, and Katau can’t hold himself up anymore, splayed over the hood of the car. “Oh, oh, please,” Katau cries, and he’s still too quiet, a little muffled against the hood. Vothoris must realize the same thing. He pulls out, and Katau whimpers, straining to look behind him.

Strong hands grip his hips and flip him over, and Katau somehow finds he can flush a deeper pink as Vothoris stands over him, pushing his legs apart so he can shove in between. It’s automatic to wrap his thighs around Vothoris’ hips, helping to pull him in closer as he pushes inside again with a low groan.

Katau’s back arches agains the hood and he moans, high and shaky. Vothoris’ hand has returned to his cock, playing over the flushed skin and providing absolutely no relief. “Oh gods, oh please,” Katau moans, legs trembling around Vothoris’ hips, slipping over smooth fabric. “M-master, please let me come, oh gods, please, _please - !”_ His voice breaks on a scream, and Vothoris’ fingers tug the cock ring open.

His climax is instantaneous, overwhelming, and Katau sobs as his come splatters over his chest, over Vothoris’ fingers. His thrusts slow but don’t stop, the thick pressure of them drawing out Katau’s ecstasy, tipping over into a tingling sensitivity that makes him squirm and whine, trembling muscles too exhausted to do anything else.

“ _Good_ boy,” Vothoris says, drawing his hand back from Katau’s cock. It’s a good thing he took his glove off - his skin is streaked with come, and Vothoris considers for a moment before he reaches up to pet over Katau’s lips, his mouth fallen open as he gasps for breath. Vothoris’ eyes are half-lidded, that poised composure nearly at its breaking point. “Clean up your mess.”

Katau gives a weak moan and opens his mouth wider, letting Vothoris slide in fingers that he laps at, slow and sloppy. The taste of his own come spreads over his tongue, and then Vothoris starts thrusting in earnest. Katau’s whines are muffled by Vothoris’ fingers but he sucks harder as Vothoris bears down on him, grunting with each pound of his hips. It’s hard to tell whether the fire burning through his nerves is pleasure or pain, but Katau doesn’t care. It isn’t important, not when he has Vothoris’ thick length splitting him open, his fingers between his lips.

Vothoris groans, grabbing Katau’s hip with his free hand. He jerks him into his next thrust, another, and then grinds into him with a shuddering gasp. Katau moans around his fingers, going sweetly limp as wet heat fills him. Vothoris stays there, breathing hard, bowed over him - Katau, slowly recovering himself, pulls back to lap up the rest of the come streaking Vothoris’ hand. By the time Vothoris looks up he’s reached his wrist, and he quickly presses a kiss there before he relaxes back against the hood.

He’s… not entirely sure what to do now. Vothoris pulls out of him, leaving him shuddering, and he knows he’s a mess - remnants of the shorts shredded around his hips, come on his belly and dripping from his ass. “Sorry,” Katau breathes, shifting anxiously, looking for a way he can get off the car without getting his mess on Vothoris, still right there in front of him. “I can, um, I’ll clean all of this…” He flushes, having trouble meeting his eyes.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” Vothoris says, and then Katau feels like he should apologize for the furrow between his brows. Before he can, though, Vothoris reaches down and _picks him up._ Only the shock of it keeps Katau from doing anything embarrassing. “I’ve got you,” Vothoris says, and Katau looks up at him, eyes wide. “You’re… alright?”

If it was anyone else, Katau would think it was uncertainty lacing his voice. But not Vothoris. “Yeah,” he says, cautiously tucking his head against his shoulder. He doesn’t protest, so Katau nuzzles into his neck with a soft sigh. He’s so tired, and Vothoris’ steady arms hold him so well…

He must fall asleep, because Vothoris is setting him down on the bed in the pool house when he blinks his eyes open again. “No, come back,” Katau says, unthinkingly grabbing Vothoris’ retreating arm. He freezes after he does it, suddenly wide awake.

Vothoris looks down at him, inscrutable. When Katau tentatively draws his hand back, though, Vothoris takes it. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?” he asks, thumb smoothing over the back of Katau’s hand. Katau frowns. Now that Vothoris mentions it… he is pretty sticky. And sore. And kind of cold, but he’s definitely not getting under the covers if he’s covered in come like this.

“Yes, sir,” he admits, since Vothoris is still clearly waiting for an answer. He’s not sure what Vothoris is getting at, but he nods decisively as if this was crucial information.

“I’ll be right back,” Vothoris says, and drops Katau’s hand to the bed as he walks off. Katau blinks at the space where he’d been, thoughts running sluggishly through his mind. Is he… getting someone else, maybe? He’s heard Runir sometimes cleans people up after Vothoris is finished. Couldn’t he just call him, though…?

Vothoris comes back in before Katau’s come to any conclusion, and the fact that he’s carrying towels only sends his mind spinning again. He blinks up at him, not sure if he should ask or just let Vothoris do whatever it is he’s doing. Oh, wait, Vothoris is saying something… what is he saying?

“What?” Katau asks blearily, because attempting to backtrack through the last thirty seconds does him no good. Vothoris huffs, and Katau notices he’s tugging at the shorts still clinging to his hips.

“Can you lift up for me?” Vothoris says, with the air of someone repeating themselves. Katau flushes and pushes himself up with effort, Vothoris’ hand at his hip supporting some of his weight as he pulls the shredded fabric down his legs. Katau flops back to the bed when they’re off, giving a tired sigh - his eyes are already sliding closed, but they snap open when he feels a soft, damp warmth on his stomach.

Vothoris freezes, lifting the washcloth from Katau’s skin. “I apologize,” he says stiffly. “Would you rather just rest? I shouldn’t disturb you -”

“No, please,” Katau says, already having relaxed. Belatedly, he remembers to add, “Sir. It feels nice.” He keeps his eyes open until Vothoris starts to wipe away the come drying on his skin again, then lets them close with a soft sigh. It feels good, the gentle strokes of the soft cloth, the same fingers that had bruised his hips brushing light and careful over his skin. Katau drifts happily, only making a soft noise of discontent when the cleaning stops after a few minutes.

“I need to turn you,” Vothoris says, a note of apology in his voice. “To get your other side. Of course, if you’d rather not, I can leave you to your rest.”

Katau just hums and rolls over onto his stomach, snuggling into the sheets now that he’s not worried about making a mess. Vothoris is just as carefully gentle, perhaps even more so - the swipes of the cloth between his cheeks make Katau shudder, oversensitive. Still, Vothoris manages to clean him without too much trouble, running a warm, fluffy towel over him to catch any lingering dampness.

“Thank you, sir,” Katau mumbles. He tilts his head up and gives him a soft smile. “That’s much better.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Vothoris asks. Katau shivers at the intent look in his eyes - to think that it’s focused on _him!_ “Are you cold? Blankets, should I get more blankets?” Vothoris looks around, perhaps not over-familiar with where the linen closet is - normally someone like Katau would fetch anything he needed.

“No, no, that’s alright,” Katau assures him. And then, of course, blushes. “Actually… I don’t know if you’re busy, sir. But if you’re not, it would be nice… I like to be held.”

Vothoris looks taken aback for the briefest moment, though the expression is quickly gone. “Would you like me to get Runir? He’s really the one… that is to say, he’s more accustomed to such things.”

“I’d prefer you if you’re not busy, sir.”

Katau and Vothoris blink in unison, and Katau wonders what possessed him to say such a thing. When has he ever been so bold? What was he _thinking?_

But before he can really start to panic, Vothoris is shrugging out of his jacket, folding it neatly over the chair in the corner. His shoes go underneath it, and then he walks around the bed to slide in behind Katau. There’s a moment where Katau holds his breath, disbelieving, but then Vothoris’ arms slide around him, tugging him against his chest. Katau quickly turns so he can rest his cheek against the crisp fabric of Vothoris’ dress shirt, smiling as his hands come to rest at Katau’s back.

“Thank you, sir,” Katau whispers, nuzzling against his chest. He misses Vothoris’ murmured reply, already drifting into sleep.


End file.
